Dreams of Reason
by Angel of Fate
Summary: No matter how many risks I've taken, and living in Vegas, there's been a few, I still maintain that falling in love is the biggest one of them all.' (DannyMary)


**Disclaimer**: I am in no way associated with _Las Vegas _the show or city. But somewhere on my computer is a picture of Las Vegas, which is practically the same thing. Oh, and the title, like most of mine are, is ripped off from a Tea Party song.

**Summary**: "No matter how many risks I've taken, and living in Vegas, there's been a few, I still maintain that falling in love is the biggest one of them all."

**Pairing**: Danny/Mary

**Author's Note**: As most fics start out, this one has been picking at my brain for awhile now. It was inspired after watching season one on DVD and Danny's voice-overs. Consequently, the entire story will be told from Danny's point of view. Lately (read: season two) I've only been able to watch _Las Vegas _sporadically, so if there's any AU details, chock it up to that. Also, this takes place after _Silver Star_, pretty much directly after in fact, so any episodes after that are null and void. Enjoy!

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Dreams of Reason

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Prologue

The Rodeo House was a sorry excuse for a bar. It was dark, with one boarded up window and a blurry television. But the booze was cheap and it was far enough from the strip to be somewhat quiet. Mostly, though, the booze was cheap. And I was going to need a lot of it.

I've lived in Las Vegas, Nevada my entire life and done almost everything there is to do in the Neon City. And I mean everything. But sometimes, things still sneak up on you. Strange, unexpected things like falling in love. No matter how many risks I've taken, and living in Vegas, there's been a few, I still maintain that falling in love is the biggest one of them all.

My father always told me that I had commitment issues when it came to women. He used to say that ever since my mother died I had been afraid to get close to another woman for fear that she would leave me just like my mother did. And when Larry McCoy made an observation, he was usually right. This, not so surprisingly, was one such occasion.

Of course, Mary Connell would tell me the same thing. Just as much, if not more, than my father did. Mary, my best friend as far as any recollection I have, was the one girl who was determined to change that about me. Mary had been a series of firsts in my life. She was the first girl I ever kissed, fourth grade behind the swings; first girl who ever kicked my ass, on the playground in sixth grade; first girl I ever fooled around with, on a rainy afternoon in my bedroom when we were fifteen. The first girl I ever really loved.

And Mary Connell was the first girl who ever broke my heart.

After the fourth grade kiss, I rarely left Mary's side. We did absolutely everything together. That is, until high school. For the most part, we were still inseparable, but as I'd once heard her referred to as, Mary became my Monday through Thursday girl. I wasn't trying to string her along. It was actually the opposite. Mary and I were just getting too close.

Mary had a less than stellar home life. Her mother, like mine, had passed away when we were younger and her father was abusive. Most nights she'd stow away at my house. She used to say I was her knight in shining amour. And only one night did I unsheathe my sword. Metaphorically speaking of course, but I wish I did have a weapon of some sort on the night she called me in a fit of sobs begging me to rescue her. To take her away from it all.

Protecting Mary had always been somewhat of a second nature to me. Something I'm sure can be rooted back to the territorial caveman days. Needless to say, I took her away from that house and away from her father, who I introduced to both of my fists and the uttered words that I would kill him if he ever laid a hand on her again.

It was after Mary had moved in with us that things started to get complicated. We were living under the same roof, at times sharing the same bed and that was more than plenty close. So, I began to keep her at a distance. Tried to be there whenever she needed me and didn't even think about telling her that I might have been in love with her.

I decided to join the Marines in spite of the protests from both Mary and my father. It was one of those things that I knew I needed to do. I'm not sure if anyone, except Mary, knew that part of the reason I was leaving Vegas was because of her. The night before I left was the night of another first with Mary. It was the first time that we made love. We had driven out to a spot that only natives know, far from the lights, magic and glitz of the strip. Just the cool desert air, the stars and us.

That might have been the first time that I broke Mary's heart, leaving her like that, without saying how I really felt. Of course if you ask Mary it might have been the second or third. All I know is that it was the first time she broke mine. I doubt she even knew it, but as she watched me say goodbye, with only a picture of her in my pack, I felt my heart shatter into a hundred pieces. She stood with one hand on her hip and the other clutching her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks and the sad look on her face probably could have broken any man's heart.

Throughout our lives, Mary and I had always had a somewhat complex relationship. More than friends, but not quite lovers. Mary had always wanted the house with the white picket fence, while I usually settled for a case of beer and an easy lay. On account of the whole commitment issue of course. After five years or so of 'should we or shouldn't we' and after I had been called back into active duty for the Marines I thought maybe it was time to put all that bullshit behind me.

When I returned, the last night I was in Las Vegas pretty much identical to when I left for the Marines the first time, except that this time it was Mary's house instead of the desert night, I proposed. After what I had seen in the war, what I had to do, Mary's white picket fence idea sounded incredibly appealing. So did sharing that fence with Mary. She gave me an answer that was close enough to a 'yes', and the next couple of months we were thrown back into that limbo stage of our relationship. We were engaged, but she wore the ring on her right hand, we were in love, but weren't quite sure how to go about it.

So, the ring somehow ended up in my palm instead of on her finger and I ended up at The Rodeo House. Not that drinking my troubles away was any sort of solution, but at the moment it seemed like a pretty good idea. Better than the white picket fence one, anyway. I'd stay here most of the night and tomorrow would be a new day. Hopefully a better day.


End file.
